Between Heroes and Legends
by Redlight47
Summary: The moment Andrew Potter held the title of hero was the moment his brother Harry was left behind. Soon having to live with his abusive relatives so Andrew can learn more magic, Harry will crosspaths with a magi so powerful even gods cannot match him. Now as his successor with his own team of young heroes, Harrison Strange will have tackle his past with friends. Features OC Heroes
1. Prologue: Same Tune, Different Tempo

Disclaimer: The following is a nonprofit fan based fictional literacy. Harry Potter is owned by J. K. Rowling, and Sony. Marvel comics are owned by Marvel Entertainment, Sony, 20th Century Fox, and Disney. Please support the official release.

Warning: The following contains scenes of graphic nature and should not be viewed by young or impressionable readers. Read at your own risk.

Authors note: Greetings to those reading. Redlight47 here tell you briefly that I thank you for reading this story that I'm honestly surprised isn't done too often in the HP archives. I mean, having harry being taught by a guy so magically powerful he could just will things to motion seems like a give-me. Regardless, I'm grateful for you all to come here take the time to read this. If it's well received, I'll update as quickly as I possibly can. Enjoy!

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~-~-Beginning of Prologue-~-~

I learned at a young age that all men aren't created equal. Everyone has something working either with or against them. Some sort of perk that gives them an advantage or disadvantage. And it could be anything, from being born into the 1% and having a special talent or connections, or having been raised in the slums and being forced into things even the most hardened of men would flinch at. However you want to put it, some had it good from the get go, and some just got the short end of the stick and have to cope with it until an opportunity comes.

In this case, I'd easily fall in the latter.

When my mum and dad came to me and told me that I'd be having a little brother, I was so excited at the time. Just think, a little brother of my own who I could show some of the things I've learned in my short life. As weird as it sounds, I've read plenty of books, both magical and muggle, and took a lot out of them. I knew a few parlor tricks that could impress the kids on the playground. And before anyone says, no, muggle books are not useless. In fact, with some of the things you could do in the mundane world, it was hard at times to differentiate magic from science as both gave astonishing results. I don't know why most magi think themselves superior when you have people who can go to the surface of the moon in a few hours.

Any who, months rolled by and my mum's stomach grew disproportionately until the water finally broke and we rushed to the hospital so he could say hello to the world finally. And I was so excited because it was on my birthday, 31st of July. My dad was worried, though; he paced back and forth as if he was expecting something to go wrong. My adolescent youth didn't comprehend he was worried about the risks of having a second child like miscarriages. But it was all well in the end as he was born and with him was the name Andrew given. He had a lot my mum's features, hair included, but my dad's hazel eyes. This would be when things get all happy and we roll the credits as the hard part is over.

But you can never expect a somber story like that with a happy ending.

Three months later, we were attacked by some Dark Lord everyone was afraid to talk about, but I heard some of his cronies calling him something along the lines of "Lord Moldy-Butt" or something else with that level of pretentiousness. Apparently he was here for me and Andrew, which was a big no-no. Dad was busy fending off the scrubs like a hero and mum, as frantic as she was strong, told me to get my baby brother and get as far away as possible. And I did so quickly and without question. I raced up to his room when no one looked and grabbed Andrew, making sure not to wake him from his nap and announce our presence.

Sneaking back down stairs, I saw Moldy-Butt, or his silhouette, for the first time. His pawns were scattered throughout the house unconscious and I couldn't help but be proud at my dad. Still both he and mum where on their knees and reeling at this bugger; I guess he was just that powerful. Luckily I was able to sneak out with a short apparition out the back door and into the woods. I hated what that monster must've done to them, but I still had a job to do, for mum's sake.

I pushed myself deeper through the forest, not knowing or caring where I went but rather if I was away from them. I thought I made good progress until unimaginable pain wreaked havoc through all of my being and was on my knees. I was still clutching Andrew tightly, but I must've held too tightly at that point because he was wailing on my shoulders. A moment later, more black pawns, most likely new ones, surrounded my brother and I like my shadows coming to life, and the big man himself took the typical evil route of appearing face-to-face to me.

This was when I really got to see his face and it was something more astonishing than horrifying. It was like looking at the deformed bastard child of a gorgon a wendigo. I would have felt bad for him had it not been for the pain I felt that moment. The only comprehensible thought in my then burning head was 'NO NOSE!' while looking at him, but whatever. He pulled out his wand with the intent to kill, but before he casted his curse, he said this to me.

"Shame, the two of you could have been powerful wizards under my rule. But I leave nothing to chance." He spoke honestly, posh tone aside, as he pointed the wand at us and casted the killing curse.

I don't know what happened after that, nobody really does. All I remember was the pain from the crucio curse coursing through me as violent green light shot from his wand. And then I felt so anxious and angry that all I saw was red for half a second and I felt something very hot stirring inside me that wasn't the unforgivable curse. And that's when I blacked out, feeling too cold and tried to do anything. I didn't want to wake up because I was afraid Moldy-Butt was who I'd see again. But then I heard the voice of my mother and I woke up at the hospital, my head pounding like someone thought it was concrete needing to be broken with a jackhammer.

It was here where I was told that Andrew was the Boy-Who-Lived, or some nonsense, and he would be a hero to Magic Britain because Moldy-Butt failed to kill him with his curse. At first I thought it was odd because I was sure he pointed his wand at me; then again, all I remembered at that point was seeing red and everything burning, so I was in no position to argue. In fact, I was proud of my brother for surviving and being the prophesized hero. This was before I realized just how big a shadow my infant brother casted despite being so small.

Yes, with his title as a hero, I was all but forgotten both inside and outside of the Potter house. Everywhere we went, people always wanted to take a look at the baby-boy-who-lived just to tell their friends that they were close to him once. My parents coddled him like no tomorrow, calling him "their pride-and-joy". My father even stopped teaching me spells just to spend more time with him. Don't get me wrong, I didn't hate Andrew for his fame because he's just a baby. He couldn't control it and He didn't have the power to stop the people around him. But I did start to resent everyone else for forgetting me, even my parents. I especially hated the kids who'd try to be friends with me because I'm his brother. You might as well wear a bright gold sash with the words ' **BLOODY LIER** ' in bold red colors.

This went on for a few years by that time, my brother had been completely spoiled rotten with the all the praise and gifts received by the people on our birthdays and Christmas. My father had stopped teaching me spells while my mom was busy planning for big events, all for Andrew. Any new spells I learned would be on my own when I read books from the archives. All the kids flocked to the famous hero and trying to be _friends_ , and I use that term more loosely than a working girls oath of fertility. Meanwhile, I slowly turned into little more than a specter for people to debate if I'm actually real or a figment of one's own imagination. Any new spells I learned were of my own doing and the only thing of value I remember getting were more books on spells and creatures by famous wizards. My uncle, Sirius Black, even gave me some books on muggle science by people like Reed Richards and Tony Stark. He admitted that it was a bit odd for me to be reading these books, but I never cared. It's not like I'd get noticed for it anyway.

Things were like this until I was around seven and he was three when Dumbledore suddenly showed up at our door. I was surprised someone as important as him would show up this suddenly, but then my surprise died when I realized that he was here for Andrew. I was right, of course, as it turns out that He had convinced my folks to let go of me permanently to raise my baby brother as the hero he was prophesized to be and send me off to aunt Petunia Dursley, a muggle, who I've never even heard of till then. They seemed a bit too okay with this too, like they always had the idea in the back of their minds. But you know what, I didn't even care because at that point I felt so detached from my family, I felt adopted.

And then I actually moved in with the woman. My dad was still perfectly alright, but my mom seemed on the verge of tears the closer we got and I understood why. It turns out my sweet aunt Petunia was actually salty at the fact she wasn't magic. Her husband, Vernon, was an astonishingly overweight man who viewed the magic world, along with anything not "normal" as freakish and needing to be put down. And if I thought my brother was spoiled rotten, my cousin was practically a decaying tooth with cavities big enough to house rats. So what we have is a spiteful giraffe married to a racist walrus that played in the sheets one day and birthed a gluttonous pig. This is the people I'd be living with, mind you.

Well, I wouldn't say "lived with" to accurately describe my time with the Dursleys. "Tortured by" seems more appropriate, "brutally beaten by" maybe, or how about "coping with the Dursleys" in the same way one copes with being diagnosed with terminal cancer. It seemed like each day I was with them I got a new scar and lost a few grams, or pounds in the case of Americans. I was worked to death like an indentured servant, beaten by Vernon's chunky fists almost randomly, brawled with Dudley's gang of idiot followers, and even nearly drowned while in the bath tub by Petunia. I would have gone to the police, but the walrus and giraffe demonized me to the point of being absolutely despised by the neighbors, who would be questioned by authorities. So not support on that end.

But then I remembered the story of Tony Stark when he was captured by terrorists and I vowed to follow in his footsteps. No, I couldn't build a set of scrap armor like him, not discreetly at least. But what I could do is plan and wait for an opportunity to present itself where I can leave this all behind. This is what made me so strong that I wouldn't break no matter how much they beat me. And with this mentality I was able to do things that normally leave me black and blue thanks to the clenched sausages that were Vernon's fingers. I snuck portions of food I was forced to make for the glutens so I wouldn't starve, I made friends with the bigger kids to help me fend off Dudley's crew in return for letting them cheat off me during tests and quizzes and help with homework, I spent time with teachers and did work for neighbors to break the face painted by the giraffe woman's words. My goal was to survive long enough to get more people on my side for when I do reach authorities. And everything went well until then this happened.

One day, the bigger kids roughed up Dudley to where he was visibly wounded. Of course, the Dursleys had assumed I did it despite the fact that the real culprits admitted it was their doing. No one was suspended because the school has given prior warnings about Dudley's behavior. This didn't stop them from going to town on me again, only this time they seemed more intent to kill than before. Vernon got a skillet from the kitchen, and was encouraged by Petunia and Dudley to "Put down the freak" as they said. And that he did, wailing on me harder and harder while I was on the ground in the fettle position. And this is when it happened again.

It was the same burning sensation from that night long ago when the dark lord tried to kill me. I was starting to see red like before as my senses enveloped in pain. Everything blurred together as this searing heat burst from my body and then… I just felt… fine. It was like I wasn't being beaten by a walrus seconds ago. I still felt tired like before, but I refused to fall unconscious so they could kill me in my sleep. When I opened my eyes, I found Vernon sprawled on the floor bleeding, Dudley was paralyzed and gapping like an idiot, and Petunia looked like she had just seen the devil incarnate. Which, in her mind, she probably did. That's when my body finally gave out and I fell unconscious.

But this time, things would be different because when I opened my eyes… I'd meet _him_.

~-~-End of Prologue-~-~


	2. Chapter 1: Abstract Meetings

Disclaimer: The following is a nonprofit fan based fictional literacy. Harry Potter is owned by J. K. Rowling, and Sony. Marvel comics are owned by Marvel Entertainment, Sony, 20th Century Fox, and Disney. Please support the official release.

Warning: This form of fiction is an Alternate Universe (AU) and will deviate from canon source material. The following contains scenes of graphic nature and should not be viewed by young or impressionable readers. Read at your own risk.

Authors Note: Greetings to those reading, Redlight47 hear! Wow, I am so surprised happy how much you all liked the prologue. It fills me with both pride and determination to continue. I want to formally apologies for not updating sooner; I never realized how hard it is to write, others make it look easy. But I refuse to give up now while I just started, especially with all of you following my progress. Again, thank you all for choosing to read this fic. Enjoy!

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~-~-\Chapter 1- Abstract Meetings/-~-~

Harry's emerald eyes shot opened with a gasp. Quickly, he stood from the ground beneath him, and as he looked at his surroundings, he wondered if what he stood on was ground at all.

To put it simply, everything around him was as if an abstract painting broke through the confines of its canvas and made itself a whole other world. It was so surreal and beautiful, yet there were so few words he knew that could describe it. He stood on a type of white bridge that had no rails and large red rings around it like arcs. The half sky, or celling, was as black as the night sky with stars glowing in a never-ending array of colors and was lit with a sapphire sun so close he could see the arcs of flame rising from it. The other side was the exact opposite. Instead of a bright night sky, it was velvet with navy clouds that shined red by a fractured moon of ruby. Floating around him look to be familiar objects ranging from ordinary dimes to entire buildings. Among them were oddly shaped rocks the looked to be constructs to deformed of or ruined for him to know what they were.

"A-Amazing," Harry stuttered in awe at the broken beauty of this surreal realm he found himself in.

"It sure is, isn't it?" Suddenly cut from his feelings of wonderment, Harry turned to see a man with an extremely unique sense of fashion.

The man was marginally tall at a courter over 6" with an exceptionally fit build, combed black hair that was greying at his temples, and grey eyes. The evidence leads to young Harry to the conclusion that this man was somewhere in his mid-thirties and in his prime. His outfit, on the other hand, was something harry couldn't make heads or tails of. He wore a navy blue, long-sleeved tunic with a large, white symbol on his chest going down to the bottom edge. This was tied to his waist with a gold sash and his black leggings and black shoes. Flowing behind him was a long red cape with gold trimmings that reached down to his ankles and a sort of collar that was folded up and bigger than his own head. Such a thing seemed too impractical for the young wizard. What was finally worth mentioning was the medallion that seemed to keep his cape around his neck. It was a golden eye that seemed almost… alive, and Harry could have sworn it was looking at him with curiosity, or maybe it was just the facing his body Harry's direction, he couldn't tell?

"Er… H-Hello?" The scarred boy didn't know what to say to the stranger, what could he say? He just arrives in a world he couldn't even tell was real, and then this person shows up just smiling like he's enjoying the scenic route. He wanted to leave, bet what was there to go to? There was no end, or even a beginning, in whatever this was.

"Greetings, Harry Potter," he replied with a warm smile. "I am Dr. Strange, Sorcerer Supreme and Protector of Earth, and I am here to speak with you,"

'Sorcerer, that explains the ensemble,' He thought to himself, remembering how wizards had a taste for the ridiculousness from before his moving with his aunt and uncle. "And where is here, exactly?"

He chuckled. "Why, this is your mind, child," he turned away to take a look at the scenery. "A very impressive mind, I must add,"

And now Harry lost all forms of cognitive thought. This was his mind; what the inside of his head looked like? Or was this just a form of subconscious renderings he read in one of Read Richards' novels? And why was he here? No wait, _how_ was he here? Not even wizards could physically enter the minds of others like this. Was he even real? Is this a all dream? Did harry die by Vernon and this was purgatory?

So many thoughts in his head at once was all just too much for the boy, and the world soon followed suite in Harry's distraught. The mixed sky darkened to near blackness as storms rolled in with thunder. Winds howled all around the two, going every which way. And one could even hear the whispers of another voice entirely.

Strange intervened, "Harry, you have to calm down! Take deep breaths and clear your mind!" He kneeled down to him and grabbed his shoulders with his gloved hands. "This is your mind, everything that your thinking becomes reality here, control it and it will listen.

Taking the doctor's words, Harry closed his eyes and began to breathe slowly and deeply, ignoring his surroundings and clearing his mind. As he did so, everything became as silent as it was before, no winds or whispers invading his ears. The only thing he felt now were the hands of Dr. Strange on his shoulders. And when he opened his eyes, everything was is it was before: white bridge, colorful sky, floating clutter, etc. This was all he needed to confirm the sorcerer's words; this really was Harry's mind.

"Where standing inside my head," the young wizard said, still dazed at the fact.

"Actually, we're sitting in your auntie's car," Dr. Strange replied matter-o-factly, "I just appeared to you in your mind through astral projection, if that makes sense."

"I guess," He nodded before doing a double take, "Wait, did you say my auntie's car? How did she get involved in this?"

Dr. Strange seemed to contemplate a moment before asking, "Tell me, what is the last thing that you remember before waking up here?"

"Oh… well, um…" Harry hesitated. He didn't want to tell people about his life with his relatives and how the treated him until later when had enough people to vouch for him. If he told too early, not enough people will believe him and they could cover the abuse with their reputation of being a normal family while labeling him as a troubled child.

Strange caught on to his hesitance and assumed it was him not wanting to talk about his abilities. "There's no need to stutter, son. You can talk to me about this, we literally have as much time as you want while in this world, you know," He reassured with a comforting smile.

'Son,' The young wizard replayed that word in his head, he hasn't been called that for years. Now the first person to call him that was someone who he didn't even know all that well. But this man seemed so… paternal to him, it was strange for Harry to think about. Still, he did sound rather sincere, and it wasn't like he had better things to do while inside his own mind. Harry let out a sigh.

"Well, Vernon, my uncle, he… er… beat me down… with a frying pan," he began and he instantly saw the warm and tender face the man made distort into one mixed with horror and contempt. Harry stopped telling his story at the man's glare. "Er… sir?"

"No, no please continue. I just have to remember how my wife is right about everything." He said, regaining his composure. But he couldn't drive away the ever present scowl on his face, try as he might.

"So… uh… while he did that, I felt really hot inside. It felt like I was burning in my chest. Then, all I saw was red and I fell unconscious." Harry finished and Dr. Strange pondered with his chin resting on his knuckles in thought. "Hmm. I guess that confirms it then."

"Confirms what?" Harry asked, curious as to what he was talking about.

"Earlier today, me and my wife felt a large burst of magic energy here in London," he explained. "At first, we thought that it was just something going on in Magic Britain, but this seemed too strong and raw to be anything they could produce. Plus, it felt too close by, so it had to be you,"

Harry then remembered something, "Wait, what about aunt Petunia? You said we're in her car?"

"Ah, yes," He said. "You see, it goes like this…"

~-~-~-\\-/-~-~-~

It was a refreshingly cool autumn afteroon in England. The sun shined through the clouds and birds chirped in which way. The people hustled and bustled through the sidewalks, some rushing to Stephen avoid being late for whatever appointments they had planned on their agendas. A typically average day for most that lived there. But for a seemingly unsuspecting couple, it was anything but ordinary even by their standards. And, considering their life style, that speaks volumes.

Strange sighed and leaned back on the metal chair. "I just don't understand why we have to leave. We just stopped a demon uprising." He said, looking down at the cup of tea in his hands.

"Don't worry beloved, the people here are just intimidated of those too powerful to comprehend," Clea comforted her husband before tacking a sip of her coffee. "The next time my uncle decides to send his Mindless Ones here, they can handle it themselves. Besides, this leaves us with a few days to see just how sturdy the beds in England are." Dr. Strange could only smile and shake his head at the innuendo of his white-haired lover from the Dark Dimension; she somehow knew what to say to keep him chortling, even in the worst of times.

The reason why the two shackled lovers were so far from New York was because of Clea's vision of the future. She saw her Dormamu, her uncle and unholy ruler of the Dark Dimension, invading Magic Britain to capture wizards of high status. It was unclear why he'd do so when most of the wizards that were captured had insignificant magic for him to consume. Never the less, Dr. Strange and Clea teleported themselves to Britain without a second thought and nearly single handedly stopped the invasion and saved the captured wizards from the hellish monster's grasp. Only now he was charged with having knowledge of black magic and being a dark sorcerer by the Ministry of Magic Britain. Now he was forced to leave the country by the next five days and never come back or be sent to jail.

"Maybe your right, Clea," Stephen admitted, "I just stop thinking how no one's even heard of me here. In fact, I don't even think most here know of the heroes and the calamities they stop on a weekly basis."

Clea snorted "Well, you know how zealots are, thinking that they know everything when-"

"Hey you!"

Both Stephen and Clea turned to see a woman running awkwardly from her car towards them. The woman looked in a rush with her frizzled hair and beady eyes, almost like she had just witness something traumatizing.

She stood before them, trying to control her breathing. "Y-You're that yank brain surgeon, Strange, right? The one who nearly killed himself driving off a cliff?"

The two looked at the frantic, long-necked, woman strangely as she just appeared from nowhere and asking for who he was. Blinking, Stephen responded. "My name is Dr. Stephen Strange, yes. Um… Who might you-"

"Oh thank god, I've been looking all over for you when I read you were here." She sighed in relief at his confirmations and attempted to grab him by the hand. "Come on! I need your help with-"

"Now wait a damn minute!" it was Clea's turned to interrupt, standing up and looking scorned beyond belief. "Just who are you to come here and demand my husband's help? If you hadn't noticed, we were in the middle of a conversation,"

Still holding on to the doctor's hand, she retorted, "I'll have you know that I am a citizen of high class here. My husband is the director of the Grunnings drill factory."

"So, you're the wife of a drill maker?" she asked impassively with her arms folded, "And that somehow makes you high class?" The strange woman started turning red looking for a retort.

"Okay, how about we just calm down for a second, alright?" Stephen cut in, already knowing the path this conversation was taking. "How about you tell me who you are and why you're looking for me, and then we go from there,"

The disheveled British woman huffed and did her best to put herself together. "My name is Petunia Dursley, and the only reason I'm here is because of my… my nephew." She said, hesitating to use that phrase to describe _him_.

"And what is exactly wrong with your nephew, Mrs. Dursley?" he asked, to which she replied by going into a long winded story.

"What isn't wrong with him?" She sighed with contempt. "First off, he's my sister's son, and that woman was already clinically insane to begin with, so just imagine what he must be like. He was sent to me to be taken care of because she lived a destructive life style and couldn't be bothered with children. Probably off doing things like crime, whoring, and heaven knows what else. And the boy is just… just sick in the same twisted way, I tell you. He thinks he can talk to snakes, he's always violent towards my family, and he pretends to-"

'She's lying through her crooked teeth, Stephen,' sparing her a quick glance, Strange wasn't surprised to find his wife's voice in her head.

'I figured so with how spiteful she's acting,' he replied telepathically, 'What did you see?'

Clea still watched Petunia rave about the nonexistent trouble her nephew caused with apparent distrust. 'The boy is magic, and she and her family hates anything or anyone "unnatural" like aliens, mutants, and especially mages. They were forced to take the boy in for some reason by his mother, a witch, and the magic government here. The used him as a child slave if they weren't beating or trying to kill him. But he's held out so far until recently. The lard she calls a husband tried to beat him to death with a frying pan, and she and her son wanted him dead. But he exploded with magic, and then fell unconscious.'

This revelation made Dr. Strange have to struggle not to lose eye contact with the spiteful mother to look at Clea. Admittedly, this shouldn't be all that surprised at the news with how mutants are treated on a regular basis around the world. It made sense wizards would be victims of the same light by the average people. But to have one staring him in the face and telling him a bold face lie so he could "fix" the child of his "freakish nature" as it were. It not only angered him beyond his composure, it actually made him consider the feasibility of using one of the spells he'd normally think twice about before using them on normal citizens, but he collected himself quickly as to not alert Petunia.

Taking a brief moment to look at the car behind her, Strange just realized something. 'Do you think this boy could've been that same magic burst from earlier?"

The heiress of the Dark Dimension contemplated. "He just might be, darling. It seems like too much of a coincidence to have felt that then have this woman show up have an hour later. If he is, then this child has the greatest magic presence I've ever felt.'

'Me too,' he agreed. The woman still talked, which was astonishing as they've been talking for several minutes, yet she still rants endlessly. 'Alright, I've had my fill of her nonsense. Play nice and follow my lead, I have a plan,'

"Now Vernon is on the floor in pain and my sweet Dudley has been traumatized because of how-"

"That's enough, you've convinced me," Stephen interjected. "I'll help fix this troublesome nephew of yours. Just take us to our hotel; l was able to bring some medical tools along with me here for just such an occasion. I'll grab my equipment and you can take us to a hospital nearby for us to operate." It was a terrible lie, the sorcerer admitted to himself, but she was either despite or dimwitted enough to beam as he said this.

"Great! Wonderful! I knew you would make the right choice," She said enthusiastically, grabbing the doctors hand, yet again, and lead him to her car. "Come on! Come on! We need to get going, where are you booked?"

"Conrad London St. James on Broadway, it isn't far from here." He answered.

Hearing all she needed to hear, Petunia started her car's engine as the married couple sat down, Clea in the passenger seat on the left and Stephen sitting next to the sleeping child in the back. The child seemed to be just fresh from a fight with the drying blood on his old shirt and sweat pants. He didn't have on shoes or socks, must not have been dressed when the fight happened. There were visible bruises on his arms and face along with more than a few scars. He couldn't help but imagine what must be under those baggy clothes. He was skinny, malnourished in fact, but just enough to be visible as if he had just finished fasting and got back to eating. He was also fairly short to boot if he guessed his age right. His raven, black hair was disheveled and unkempt and his bottle cap glasses were cracked. This kid had probably been through a lot in just a short time.

Petunia eagerly raced down the street, cutting off several cars along the way. Meanwhile, Stephen was just about to start the next part of the plan.

'You're going to try and talk to him?' asked his wife skeptically.

He was confused at his wife's mental tone. 'Why so apprehensive, dear? I wanted to get him on the same page. '

'You felt how powerful he was earlier,' she reminded, 'I may not sense it now, but he's clearly that burst from before. He may accidently push you out from shock.'

'I can handle it, just keep pretending to be nice,' he reassures. And with that the doctor touches the temple of his forehead delved into the inner sanctities of the child's mind.

~-~-~-\\-/-~-~-~

"And now, here we both are," Dr. strange finished with a sigh.

Harry looked him, thinking on what he just said. He just saved Magic Britain from honest-to-god demons and they kick him and his wife out for knowing black magic. And he treats it like it was an average day for him. But, considering how he carries himself and what he wears, it might possibly well be common place for him. In that case, Dr. Strange must be the most powerful wizards he's ever met. So why would the Ministry banish if for being so strong? But these were things to think about later, back to the matter at hand.

"So what now?" Harry asked. With everything he's said so far, he wondered what this next step was.

"Now I give you this proposition," Strange said as he walked towards the boy and got on one knee. "Harry, what you have is potential that, if fully realized, could make you a magi the likes of which could dwarf any practitioners of magic. You could become something more than you ever thought possible, maybe even something I thought was possible. But to do this requires absolute dedication in the arts of magic." He warned.

"You must have absolute control of your body, mind, and spirit. There can be no room for error when dealing with this level of the supernatural. The road to being a true master is long, bumpy, and filled with danger in every possible crack and craves down the line. If you so much as spout one vowel in an incantation wrong or draw a rune incorrectly, it could result in catastrophic, even irreparable consequences. Magic is dangerous, it takes most lifetimes for them to become like me. You must also be warry of yourself; do not allow yourself to be taken over at the powers you possess, or it will lead to your own demise." He remarks, "I've seen countless gifted people lose themselves for their lust for power, some of whom I considered friends."

Harry looks back at him, his face filled with determination and grit. "I understand, sir, and I'm ready for this challenge" He said, his resolve unwavering in his childish voice. "I'll be your student, Dr. Strange,"

Strange smiled, happy to see the child's fortitude at such a difficult task. "Excellent. And now, for the next part." He began to explain, "Right now, time is slowed down for us because the mind perceives events faster than in the waking world. If someone were to drop their phone, it may take months for it to reach the floor. Soon, though, both of us will be leaving here back to the outside and you must stay calm and try not to make a sound whatever you do. I saw several bloody marks on your body in the car. You will feel them when you wake up, but try to stay like your sleeping. Otherwise, your aunt may grow suspicious, understand."

Harry didn't like the idea of having to feel pain again. He was tired of the abuse dealt to him by his abusive relatives. 'It's just for one last time,' he tried to convince himself. Looking up at the Sorcerer Supreme, harry gave a halfhearted nod in agreement.

"Alright, now prepare yourself for you are about to be awakened," he said and took several steps back from Harry. Dr. Strange then held his arms out and made them into a sort of hand sign that Harry thought resembles what muggles called.

~-~-~-\\-/-~-~-~

"Here we are!" Petunia said in a falsely sweet sing-song tone as she pulled up in front of the hotel. Clea, still sitting beside her, just looked at her warily after her wild driving. It wasn't nearly as dangerous to her as her normal life style, but she had enough close calls to start worrying about starting a six lane pileup.

In the back seat, Harry silently woke up, and was immediately confronted with the pain dealt to him by Vernon earlier. His head hurt like a mother, but he stifled the torturous moans threatening to escape his lips. Instead, all he mustered was a silent grunt of discomfort. Luckily, Petunia was too distracted to notice or even care now. She's a hair's breath away from getting rid of the freak once and for all, why bother caring how he feels now?

"Excellent," Strange smiled. "I'll be taking Harry up to my room and see if I can find any tumors and such. You can wait with my wife in the lobby." It wasn't a total lie, when strange entered his consciousness, he felt a looming presence. It was relatively small, but still there and clung to his brain like a tumor. No doubt something magical he had to look further into when this mess was settled.

"Alright then," she said, hardly even paying attention. The group collectively climbed out of the car with Stephen holding Harry near his chest. Harry's body ached horribly, but still played the role of unconsciousness, so he made sure not to move while still in Petunia's line of vision. Walking inside, Clea sat the clueless aunt down on some chairs while Stephen carried the wizard to the elevator.

"Your husband can fix the boy, right?" Petunia asked suddenly. Clea looked at the disheveled British woman with contempt at first, but quickly hid it with a brightly fake smile.

"Believe me, if there is something mentally wrong with your nephew, chances are that my husband will take care of it and he'll be right as rain." Clea assured. 'But, to be fair, he isn't the one with suffering brain damage at the moment,' She then asked. "What exactly was it that you said was wrong with him, again?"

"What isn't wrong with him," Petunia sighed in contempt. "He's always so violent and disrespectful. I blame his mother, sodding twat wanting to get rid of him so she have more free time whoring herself off to that wretched nobleman," Clea had to resist rolling her eyes at the fact she actually didn't answer the question, even if it was fake. And from what the white haired sorceress could gather, she was in no mood to stop her list of complaints.

'Stephen, I swear, you will pay with interest for this,' she thought to herself while struggling incredibly hard to look generally enthralled in the mad woman's ramblings. But as she did this, she began to wonder something about the future.

'I wonder what it will be like to have a son,'

Meanwhile, at the top floor, Dr. Strange opened his hotel room with his key card. He still carried near his chest and the small boy held him for support, not that the magi would drop him of course. Walking up to the lavish bed, Stephen gently placed Harry on the covers face up. Harry was still in pain, made evident by his soft grunting. But said nothing as doctor strange moved some of his messy raven hair out of the way.

"Now, let's see what we have here," he said as channeled magic within his hands, causing them to aluminate in a bright green aura. Harry watched with interest as the doctor closed his eyes slowly waved his glowing hands around his small body. As Stephen opened his eyes, Harry was shocked to see that they glowed with the same green light that covered the palms of his hands.

"Hmm… this is odd," He spoke aloud. "Tell me, Harry, have you been having a string of strange dreams?" he asked, not stopping what he was doing.

"Well, yeah actually," Harry answered. "They're really vivid, too. In them, I see someone being hurt, or worse, by a pale man in a black cloak. I think it's the same guy from before."

Stephen

"Some guy everyone's too afraid to mention attacked me and my family because he thought either me or my brother would beat him up like a hero does." Harry explained. "I don't know why people are scared of just saying his name. I thought a man called 'Lord Moldy-Butt' would find it challenging to be taken seriously."

Dr. Strange had to keep himself from breaking his concentration by laughing. This kid must have either not known exactly who he was to just openly insult a dark lord, or did and would continue to do so without a care. If the later was the case, then Harry was truly something special.

"Hahaha! Well, in any case, it looks like he left a bit of himself inside of you." He said, still laughing at the childish humor. "A piece of his soul clings to yours like a tumor. I suspect that it's insurance for if he is ever killed. He can just move on and possess whatever, or whoever, it is he's anchored his soul to. And judging by the small size of it, you aren't the first."

Dr. Strange ceased fueling the magic in his hands and his eyes returned to normal. Harry looked up at him in surprise. "So this tosser turned me into a homunculus?" He asked with a look of frustration.

Stephen raised his eyebrows. "Well, yes actually, but how do you know this?"

"I read a lot of magic and muggle books before I was forced to leave and move with my aunt," He answered with an iota of pride unmissed by Stephen, who smiled and thought of the prospect of teaching him magic.

"I see," He said. "Well, it looks like I'll need to take care of that when we get you home. For now, I need to make a phone call." He walked to the bed stand, where the phone was, and quickly dialed 9-9-9. "Hello, this Stephen strange, I'm calling to file a crime of child abuse,"

~-~-~-\\-/-~-~-~

Clea was considered to be many things in her life. She was the legal heir of the dark dimension that was currently ruled by her heinous relative. She was one of the most powerful practitioners of magic the world has ever seen. She's was proudly married to the Sorcerer supreme, Dr. Strange. With all that in mind, having to go through someone else's utter bullshit would seem completely tame compared to her almost weekly agenda of fighting demons and supernatural entities wanting to conquer all that exists. That clearly wasn't the case as she was ten seconds from making this ass of a woman bleed through every facial orifice she had.

"And he's been using his freakish ways to trick everyone into thinking he's the victim, making me and my family out to be the villains. And now he attacked my dear husband, Vernon, for no reason. He was lucky that monster didn't kill him. Honestly, between the snake talking and him making things disappear, I wonder how we've managed for so long."

"So, he's a mutant," Clea falsely stated, but could already tell he was a magic caster. "If so, then my husband can't remove mutations. In fact, my husband can't actually remove mutations, no form of science can."

"That's just it; the doctors say they can't find any sign of him being one of those disgusting _muties_ like in the states! They called him normal!" she scoffed. "I just wish your husband would make something happen soon, I can't wait much longer,"

Clea thought tiredly, 'Neither can I,' as she rested her head on her hands. For nearly ten straight minutes, and she has kept count, this Petunia lady has been both avoiding her question while also degrading and complaining about her nephew's magical abilities. It truly was an endurance test akin to that of watching any concert performed by modern pop musicians.

At that moment, like a prayer from god, two local police officers stepped into the lobby looking for something, or rather someone. One was a strong looking woman with black hair and aged features while the other was rather young man, likely in his twenties, with a scrawny build and tanned skin. Spotting Clea's, probably with her snow-white hair. The two law enforcers quickly walked their way and the older man spoke.

"Pardon me, ma'am, you wouldn't happen to be the woman married to a Dr. Stephen Strange, would you?" She asked, her partner standing right beside her at the ready.

Clea answered, "In deed I am, sir. And this is the same Petunia my husband told you about on the phone." That got the british woman's eyes to widen to the point they threatened to pop out the sockets.

"What!" she stood up, causing others to look her way. "What are you talking about your husband called?"

"I see," the older officer said and turned to her college. "Alright, Conner, go through the procedure like in the textbook,"

The young man, Conner, nodded in return and went up to Petunia, still in shock of what's going on. "Ma'am, you are being taken in for questioning on the pretenses of child abuse and endangerment. You do not have to say anything but it may harm your defense if you do not mention now, anything you later rely on in court. Anything you do say will be given in evidence."

"I most certainly will not be going to court with you! GET YOUR HANDS OFF ME!" she screeched like a banshee. The young rookie tried to grab her wrist when she suddenly slapped him across the face in the heat of the moment. While it may not have hurt him seriously, it definitely caught him off guard enough to cause him to stagger backwards. At this point, all of the citizens, occupants and employees alike, were looking at the spectacle before them.

"Oy! That's blatant assault of an officer!" the older officer said, whipping out standard issue handcuffs. Petunia tried to run away, tried to get out of this mess, but she was too late as Officer Conner quickly had her in a basket hold. The older woman had a look of approval. "Nice work, rookie,"

"Thanks, Pam," he replied, holding Petunia's arms out to be cuffed.

Pam walked over, cuffs at the ready while the woman continued to fight back. "Watch it, rookie, I'm still Sgt. Pamela to you. And as for you," she stared at Petunia hard in the eye. "You are going be doing some time for hitting my partner, only I do that."

Petunia still squirmed under the young policeman's firm grip. "And just what gives you the right to handcuff me on such accusations?"

"I believe it's for what you and your family has done to this innocent child,"

Everyone whipped their heads to the voice of Dr. Stephen Strange walking in at an almost too perfect time. Walking beside him and holding his hand was Harry himself, still bruised bleeding but now had bandages covering the head wound. He looked tired and defeated, but was internally grinning at the sight of his despicable aunt in cuffs. Even with the pain he felt right now, that sight alone helped him to ignore it some.

"He's lucky to be walking right now with the concussion he has. Not to mention the damage whatever blunt object your husband caused him. No doubt he has some fractures, maybe even broken bones." He gave a spiteful look at the abusive relative, who only shuddered at how cold his gaze was.

Sgt. Pamela agrees, "Yeah, I say that'll be a real hard one to explain without you getting thrown behind bars," and without another word, the two drag her out of the hotel and into the police car outside with her kicking and screaming bloody murder along the way. All the while, the people applauded their efforts of getting the mad woman out of the building, some with their iPhones, Androids, and Stark Cells taking photos and video of the event.

Needless to the rest went without problems for Harry and the married magicians as the two went to court against the Dursleys. After Vernon was healed from the Harry's magic burst, which everyone else labeled as spur of self-defense, he and his wife were at the hearing against Strange. Unfortunately for them, they had no real evidence of any actual troubling behavior from Harry to present to the jury. All of their neighbors, the school faculty, and anyone else they brought up would have said Harry was a bright, polite, and kind boy who made friends. They only people who didn't like him were the Dursleys themselves along with Dudley's mindless peons. This only served to cast them in an even worst light with the judge and jury along with their lawyer rubbing his temples in frustration.

Needless to say that they didn't win the case and ended up losing both Harry and Dudley, the later of whom was received by his grandmother, Marjorie, in a last ditch effort to keep him from an orphanage. Petunia earned twenty years in jail along with community service for the remainder of her life. Vernon, on the other hand, got life in prison for not only attempted murder on Harry Potter, but also for a tax evasion scandal regarding his factory. It was truly a tragic day for the Dursley house hold, but not one undeserved for ilk like them.

Harry, meanwhile, was legally adopted by Stephen and Clea Strange, his new name being Harrison Stephen Strange. After quickly being healed by magic and going through the other legal processes of adopting a child, Harry quickly teleported with his new family to New York a place where heroes and villains were as common as mildew. It would take some time getting use to this new setting and new family, but he would manage, he always did. Not to mention the fact that he'd be learning magic in multiple branches by multiple wizards he had yet to meet. For now, he just enjoy the simple pleasure of eating a warm meal with good people and lying on nice soft bed, ready for the first goodnight sleep in years.

~-~-\Chapter End/-~-~

* * *

Authors Note: First I want say sorry if this seems a bit rushed, but given how many times you find a Wrong BWL fic like this, where wasn't much to do that deviated from clichés you'd likely read about already. So I just opted to get it out the way for the real story. Don't worry, more will come eventually, I promise. For now, let's just be happy that the obvious is out of the way and I can focus on the real story.

Besides that, I have something I want to share. Lately I've been getting distracted with ideas of a new story, or rather stories (along with some content not safe for work). My friends have been exposing me to a ton of different cartoons and anime and now I've been thinking of over a dozen different ideas. The four major ones that I've been thinking on the most, in no specific order, involved the following programs.

Total Drama Series

Boku no Hero Academia

Randy Cunningham: 9th Grade Ninja

The Last Air Bender/Legend of Korra

But I wanted to ask you what you think I should do. Should I take one of these ideas and write it alongside this story, or wait till I get further along this one? Let me know in the comments what you want me to do and I will make it happen. If you want me to start a new one, then I'll have a pole set up next chapter for which of the four shows you want me to write about first when the next chapter is up. Goodbye and take it easy friends.


	3. Technical Issues

Technical Issues (I'm so Sorry)

Hello to all readers, Redlight47 here with some major bad news. Unfortunately, due to some accidental events, the file with the second chapter of Between Heroes and Legends is gone. This means you'll have to wait even further with the new chapter. I haven't given up on the story, but you'll have to wait a bit more. Also with me being in college, working, and actually socializing with people (not to mention the new concept of having a girlfriend) making time to write is a lot harder than ever. But I refuse to give up; I promise you that when I can, this story will get an update.

On a side note, I'm also working an entirely new crossover series. Directly inspired by the SNK/Guyver crossover, Attack On Titan: The Warriors of Light and Darkness, I present to you the first crossover between Shingeki no Kyojin and DC's New Captain Atom, strongThe Titular Atom/strong. Featuring our favorite, sentient mass of energy trapped in their universe and is compelled to help them in any way possible, even should they praise or curse his name.


End file.
